


Who ya gonna call?

by onceuponachildhood



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: A definitive lack of anything serious, Bad Puns, Ghosts, M/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-18
Updated: 2014-08-18
Packaged: 2018-02-13 13:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2152677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponachildhood/pseuds/onceuponachildhood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wash isn’t expected a roommate, much less one this… spirited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who ya gonna call?

**Author's Note:**

> Did you know that "bad puns" is a real tag you can select on this site? What a time to be alive. So: ghost puns, gay dudes, eventual additional parts. Prompt was living person/ghost au.

* * *

Wash couldn’t believe the deal he was getting on the house. It felt like stealing, the price was so good. And for what?  _Ghosts?_  He snorted. How ridiculous. Well, the house was his at a fantastic price, no matter the reason.

It was barely a week before things started… happening. Wash would start unpacking a box, leave the room, and come back to find things moved out of the box. Books randomly on shelves. Pictures hung on nails. Dishes in the cabinet. It was strange, to be sure, but Wash ignored it. Maybe he’d been unpacking so much that he was forgetting doing things. He took a couple days off to start working on the outside of the house. Get a garden planted, clean the grimy siding, that sort of thing. Things stopped putting themselves away, and he slowly began working on the unpacking again.

Then the noises started. Doors would shut and open on their own. Footsteps could be heard from empty rooms all the way across the house. It was just settling, Wash told himself. Older houses made noises.

But he didn’t think he was really losing his mind until words started appearing on the walls. He turned around in the middle of changing into his pajamas to see words in big black letters on his bedroom wall.  _You’re hot as fuck_ _._  He stared at the wall for a few minutes, pants still only on one leg. He sighed. Pulled his pants on the rest of the way. Grabbed a pillow and blanket. Maybe sleeping on the couch for a night wouldn’t be a bad thing. It was a comfy couch, after all.

Behind him, the words faded and vanished.

Wash woke the next morning to see a face hovering over him- a face that was strangely translucent. He didn’t scream. He didn’t jump. He swallowed, let out one long breath, and closed his eyes. “Who the fuck are you?”

When there was no answer, he cracked open an eye.

The face was still there, handsome features twisted in a look of confusion. The- oh hell, Wash could admit it to himself- the  _ghost_  backed up a bit. “Are you really awake?”

“Yes, I’m awake, no thanks to being stared at in my sleep.” Wash sighed, tried again. “Who are you?”

“Oh, I’m Tucker.”

“Tucker. Right.” He tipped his head back against the arm of the couch. “What are you doing?”

“I didn’t mean to scare you out of your bedroom last night, so I figured I could say sorry when you woke up this morning.”

Wash sighed again. It was beginning to feel a little melodramatic. Then again, he was talking to a freaking ghost in his living room. “No, I mean, what are you doing here? In my house?”

“Right, this is your house now, isn’t it?” A moment of silence. Wash fought the urge to break it. “Sorry. I’m, uh, I’m kind of stuck here. This was my house, you know, before I died.”

Wash sat up, now interested. “Stuck here?” Then another thought hit him. “Was it really you moving my stuff when I first got here?”

Tucker rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. The last couple of tenants were kinda assholes, so I tossed shit around to scare them. But you seemed nice, and kinda tired, so I wanted to help.”

“A ghost helped me unpack.”

Tucker grinned, probably at the way Wash’s voice had gone up. Wash hated it. “Well, yeah. You seem nicer than the last people that lived here.” A pause. “Plus you’re freakin’ gorgeous. I can think of ways other than scaring to make you scream. Bow chicka bow wow.”

“Oh my god.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“No. Shut up.” Wash covered his face with a pillow. “I’m being hit on. By a ghost. In my house.”

“Your  _haunted_  house.”

Wash groaned. “I don’t fucking believe this.”

“I bet I could really make you believe. Bow chicka bow wow.”

* * *

 


End file.
